


Sanity is a Start

by I_Have_No_Clue



Series: Sanity is [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Cults, Gen, Joshua is techically John, Kidnapping, No more or you'll be spoilded, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Psychic Abilities, Reincarnation, yet not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Have_No_Clue/pseuds/I_Have_No_Clue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Sanity is merely the start of all that is insane.' -me </p>
<p>John Watson has lived a good life and just wants to rest. Of course, his after life has to be just as exciting as when he lived.<br/>After a few false starts, Joshua Watson has finally found some stability. Only to find himself kidnapped and drugged by some crazy cult.<br/>At least he made a new friend. </p>
<p>Warnings!<br/>Kidnapping<br/>Forced Drug Use<br/>Non Graphic Violence</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanity is a Start

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shadows on the Wall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/144734) by [AraSigyrn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/AraSigyrn). 



> I loved the fic this was inspired by, and the thought of a physic John got me interested. Then when I go to write I find my muse adding things, which brings about this...
> 
> Basically my imagination not only got carried away, but also decided to screw with the story and grow tulips.
> 
> Anyways, I don't own Sherlock or anything related to it. I don't have a brit picker or a beta reader. I just have tulips.

Life, John Hamish Watson found, was a trickier, more interfering, extremely stubborn mixture of Mycroft and Moriarty.

How did he figure this?

Because he just met the Personification/Deity of Life.

They basically looked like a giant ball of light in the land of darkness he found himself in, and it seemed to speak directly into his mind.

“Let me get this straight; I’m dead, but you won’t let me pass on? Is this some kind of joke?” The dead man said, indignant.

He was 83 years old, he had all rights to pass on and rest his bones.

Then again, it didn’t seem like he had bones at the moment, being a disembodied spirit and all. John found it kind of funny that the who ever thought spirits looked like floating sheets was correct. From what he saw of himself, it seemed his spirit formed a swaying cloth-like being, the middle of the sheet poking up like a small hill for his head. Though he was slightly disturbed to find he had no arms or hands; those were kind of necessary.

“This is no joke, good sir. And it’s not that I won’t let you pass on, it’s just the fact that you can’t. Your soul is much too strong for you to stay down, so thus you’ll just end up being reincarnated anyways. I’m just here to explain what’s going on.” The glowing orb ‘spoke’, sounding rather calm. It was only because of years dealing with Mycroft that John was able not to snap at it.

“Then please explain my situation.” John asked, his manners that were ingrained into him coming out.

“As I said, your soul is rather powerful. This is due to it being a rather rare type of soul; an Old Soul. Tell me, even in your youth, did you feel as if you have lived much longer, were much older then those around you? Did it always seem you were a bit more mature then others your age?” Was asked of him, making the old army doctor frown.

The orb did hit close to home; it was often remarked just how grown up he acted, even in his youth. He was full of patience his peers seemed devoid of, and could at times take better care of himself then even his older sister could when they were young. Hell, he occasionally had to take care of his sister when she was drunk.

But then again, John had always attributed the maturity to his home life. His dad was always trying desperately to keep his family together and get enough work to pay the bills. Though with his mother drinking most of the money away, and Harry discovering her own love for drink and parties, it was understandable why John would grow up fast.

But then again, he had never broke down like how his dad did from time to time. In fact, he behaved to saying ‘Keep calm and carry on’ to a tee, never really bothered to much by any hardship. If he thought about it, Sherlock was really the only one who could get him to react, and even then John easily adapted after a while, most of the time responding with fond exasperation.

“Okay, I’m an Old Soul…What exactly does that mean?” John’s spirit asked.

“Basically that while your earthly shell may die, your soul will come here to go on to another life instead of resting like the others. You will constantly be reincarnated, some you will remember, some you won’t. But seeing as this is the first time your soul decided to be born, you will remember every single moment of the life as John H. Watson.” The deity explained.

Frowning, (or at least he thought he was, hard to tell when you were basically a spirit) John couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean that this is my first time born?”

“Just that. You see, Mr. Watson, an Old Soul comes about when it sleeps in the life stream ever since it came into being, which can last up to eons. And not only that, but you, my dear, are one of the true, original Old Souls, souls that were formed just before life came into being. All of the Originals have been born an inordinate amount of time oh so long ago; you are in fact the last of them to finally come into being. Your soul defiantly took it’s time to enter into life.” The personification actually sounded rather annoyed at that, which made John feel slightly pleased in a slightly petty way. Something about the ball of light rubbed him the wrong way.

“Okay, so what should I expect, from the whole reincarnate thing?” John asked, learning from Sherlock to always ask questions.

For some reason, he almost thought the ball cringed and wished he asked something else.

“… Due to your soul, you’ll start to develop abilities…” the light hedged, which just put John on edge.

“…At what cost?” John asked, scowling when he saw the light flash lightly in surprise. “I’m no idiot, I know nothing comes for free.”

“…Your sanity might not be considered… stable… At least, not in your first few lives…Maybe…” was the explanation John received.

“…”

“…”

“… Alright then, might as well get this over with.” John said with a sigh.

“Alright then, good luck in your new life, good sir.” was the last thing the spirit of John Hamish Watson heard before he was he found himself suddenly in a too bright, too cold room, wet, and crying out.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Either the deity was lying or Josh was just special.

So far, he had been reborn ten times, and he remembered every signal one, remembered coming back to the dark place ten times, before being pushed into a new baby’s body once again. At first, he thought that maybe he was just forgetting lives and the dark place all together, but apparently, you don’t forget that place. Seemed he was lucky to develop perfect memory recall, never able to forget a signal detail for anything.

So this was his eleventh life and it seemed that whoever thought up alternate worlds deserved a prize. Because in this life? He was named Joshua Harold Watson, two years older then his sister Harriet Mary Watson, and three years older then John Hamish Watson.

Josh, as he had taken to calling himself, stared from his six year old body as he watched the clouds pass by. At first, when he had come into being in this life, he thought it was just a coincidence at first, then Harry was born, then John was born on the correct dates.

After that, he had to face facts; he had been reborn into an alternate world. He knew this because one, John was not an Old Soul, though it was a bit aged, maybe a century or two? The second reason was that the aura of the world around him was drastically different from his first ten lives, smacking him straight in the face.

And speaking of that, Josh had found what his ‘abilities’ were. It seemed that he could read a person’s aura, which was made up of their emotions and spirit. And as if that wasn’t as headache inducing as it was, the Old Soul he carried also made him psychic. The first four lives he went through he had ended up stuck in an insane asylum. He was not able to really take much in about the world outside the white walled facilities, though he could tell that he was in different time periods due to the dress and way people talked. He didn’t even want to remember the medical procedures.

It was in his fifth life that things started looking up. As he had went into a slight memory coma, which was basically when his memories overwhelmed him for hours on end, that he came upon the memory of Sherlock describing his mind palace. Once he had come too, he had immediately sought all information he could get on his first best friend’s technique, absorbing it all until there was nothing left to find.

Obviously, a palace setting wouldn’t fit, even if the size was adequate for every memory, vision, and thought. It was just didn’t provide enough structure for him, it left to much room for the unstable thoughts to move around in.

While in his fifth life he still ended up in an asylum, it was much later on in life, so he knew he was on the right track. It took five more lives before he found the perfect setting; a library. It was the perfect for him, letting him organize everything correctly, and able to expand it when necessary without any trouble. He even figured out a way to develop avatars in his mind to automatically organize everything according to section and subject. (They also were able to assist in defending his mind library, making sure no one could ever get away with brainwashing or hypnotism.)

Unfortunately, he had only just figured out the library method when he was an old man in his tenth life, so thus he didn’t have long to work on it. He was, however, able to start fresh in this life with it, seeing from the start how it worked out. So far, he had only thrown three ‘temper tantrums’ as his parents called them, so they weren’t really worried. Though these ‘tantrums’ were actually much more different then what his parents thought.

When he got so overwhelmed with emotions, memories, visions, and thoughts, Josh would respond in varying ways. He could go into a destructive rage, hence the ‘tantrums’, or a memory coma. He could also spend hours on hours cleaning anything and everything, the need for organization getting to him as he faced an avalanche of mental strain and stress. Then there was the spouting of information he would give out, saying what he saw from a vision or an aura. Luckily, he had only done these in front of his siblings, who didn’t really understand what there silly older brother was talking about.

To be truthful, if he were to diagnose himself, with only the outside symptoms to go off of, he would probably say he was a schizophrenic with OCD. Add the paranoia and PTSD from his first life, as well as the built up mental strain from his previous lives, Joshua Watson was not a stable child. It was lucky he was so young and that his parents didn’t hear his tangents, otherwise he might be in a bit of a mess.

Sighing, Josh got up to stretch, finally finished organizing his thoughts for today. He had decades upon decades of memories to sort through, along with the memories, visions, and thoughts of his current life to handle. It would probably take him years to get it all sorted out.

“Joshy!” Was cried excitedly by a young feminine voice.

Looking over at the porch door, John took in the sight of a five year old Harry and a four year old John, both looking up at him with big eyes.

“Play House w’th us! I’ll be mummy, you be daddy, and John with be the puppy!” Pleaaaaaase?” His little sister asked, a big, hopeful smile on her face. Looking at John, he seemed to have no problems being a puppy, so with a sigh and a fond smile, Josh nodded.

Whatever may come, he knew he was at least with good siblings.  
______________________________________________________________________________

He just had to open his mouth around the wrong sort.

And doing so in public, where he could be over heard, was just the cherry on top.

Josh gritted his teeth as he looked away, not able to stand the sickening aura of his kidnapper. The man in a ten-year old body and the rest of his family had gone into London for a day-trip, seeing the sights and playing on the swings in any park they could find. Josh himself was rather nervous about being out in a place so populated, where auras could overwhelm him or a vision could strike. The whole trip he was twitchy, which he knew his parents had noticed, which also meant they worried.

But the reincarnated youth was lucky in that they didn’t see or hear him announce to a young woman in the park that she was indeed with child, and that they were twin girls. The lady stared at him in surprise, but before she could say anything else, he and his family were off once again. Sadly, they also had a follower tailing after them.

Seem that it was a Donald Barks, a man desperate for cash and knowing where and how to get it. He decided that the child who could seemingly say the future was worth his weight in cash to the right people after seeing his little trick. It was due to that desperation that the man was able to take him from the hotel room and willingly sell a child to a cult. Though the man was the reason he was in this situation at the moment, Josh would have preferred the slightly guilty, desperate aura to the greedy, crazed devoted one the driver had.

The driver, one Regan Wilson, was completely devoted to his cult’s cause and believed that that he had finally found them a Seer. Josh felt queasy at all the plans that the man was making about him, but knew he couldn’t do anything at the moment.

All he could do was wait, watch, and observe for now.

“We hae arrived, wean! Now, get out of the carivan and follow me. No mischief, yeh hear?” Wilson said, stopping the car and getting out to open the door for him. Josh looked away from the man, the vile excitement and tainted glee causing him to nearly be sick.

Soon, he was led into a seemingly homey manor home, led up the stairs, then down some, walking through twisting hallways, until he passed a door that was obviously an office of some sort.

From what Josh saw, they were interrupting a meeting of some importance, if the looks of annoyance on the group’s faces were to be judged correctly. They were all dressed in fine robes that seemed made for priests, with the hoods down at the moment. They were obviously higher ups in the modestly sized cult, and Wilson was hoping to appease them, so he would gain greater standing with those before him.

“What is the meaning of this, Member Wilson? Why have you dared to interrupt this gathering, and bring a child? What if someone saw you?!” Was demanded of him, from the leader of the group, Jacob Croft.

While Wilson’s aura flashed with bitterness at being called a ‘Member’, it went away quickly as he bowed before the group.

“Forgive us me lord, but I believe I 'ave found a true seer!” The man announced, greed, hope, and devotion all practically shining from his aura in his excitement.

A tense hush came upon everyone in the room, while Josh turned his head to the floor, not able to stare at all the twisted devotion from those in the room anymore. It was but a moment before the hush was broken by the words from the leader.

“Child, come here.” Was said in a commanding voice, allowing no room for any form of disobedience. This was a man who was used to being obeyed, but also knew how to deal with any insubordination.

Coming forward, Josh kept his eyes firmly on Croft’s shoulder, giving an illusion of looking into the man’s eyes. He knew he would get ill if he looked into them and he needed to keep himself as healthy as possible.

“Child, do you see things that you can’t explain?” Was asked of him, the leader’s aura overall skeptic, but with a tinge of hope.

“…Don’t kill her, she’ll die naturally in a month… And killing your brother will do no good. You’ll only be caught… Don’t invest your money with Gregory, go with Berks.” Josh prophesied and advised, letting thoughts and visions of Croft’s present and future come to him.

Gasps and mutterings were heard all around the room, all there aura’s were practically a glow with surprise, astonishment, glee, amazement, and greed.

Josh merely looked down, while Croft called for silence, his aura similar to a raging fire, lit up with satisfaction, glee, and wonderment.

“Member Wilson, you will be fully rewarded for this great treasure, but for now you may leave.” Croft dismissed the man, who left with his aura full of greed and happiness.

Josh closed his eyes, staying as still and quiet as he could.

This was the start of his new hell.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They put him on heroin a few days in.

Oh, they told him it was ‘medicine’, something to help his mind so he could see his visions better. But as a doctor and mental patient, the reincarnated boy was able to tell exactly what it was. And to be truthful? He didn’t need it. With his perfect memory his visions could not be forgotten, so he could have easily just told them so.

But then, they would realize just how strong his visions were. And that could not happen, no matter what.

Josh twitched as he felt the familiar rush, the heaviness in his limbs, his mouth getting dry, the relaxation taking over his body and mind. He hated this feeling, he absolutely despised the symptoms, but most of all he hated the questions.

“What are the stocks going to be next month?”

“Will I have a girl or a boy?”

“Who will be the next Prime Minister?”

“What are the winning lottery numbers?”

“Should I put my child up for sacrifice?”

Endlessly, the questions would keep coming, and each time, Josh would answer them to the ‘best of his abilities’

It was all he could do to get by.  
______________________________________________________________________________

A week in they gave Joshua a 'playmate'.

They were a skinny young teen, slightly roughed up from the 'care' from their 'Guardians'. But no amount of dirt and scratches would be able to hide the fact that his new 'friend' was of the higher classes. His clothes, while damaged, were still obvious in their quality, even in the basement's horrible lighting. And he bad light just seemed to make the youth's aristocratic features stand out, even though he hadn't finished growing into them, you could tell he would have a strong jaw and sharp cheeks. He would probably be devastating when he grew into himself. Shame he could make out much else about them, but the little light in here turned everything it touched in the room colors ranging from dark yellows and browns.

"He-hello." Josh tried, inwardly cursing his dry mouth. "You alright there?"

The youth had immediately turned to face him, the ten year old watching as the seemingly older boy's face went from cautious, to horrified, then to stoic. Eyes that John couldn't tell the color of at the moment narrowed as they took him in.

Josh knew he probably wouldn't make a pretty picture at the moment, despite all the care and comfort he was given as the cult's lofted 'Seer'. A week and a half on drugs would do that to a child, despite how luxurious their commendations. He had lost a lot of his baby fat, had bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep, and his small childish frame would shiver from a phantom cold that he knew wasn't real but always felt. And with the fact that they only dressed him up in the most simplest of clothes, 'since he must always be humble and appreciate what their God has given', it didn't hide the track marks and other bruises he had.

He bruised rather easily these days, even from the simplest grip.

"...I'm fine... And you?" The teen said, the stoic look on his face betrayed by the worry and disgust layering his soft voice. Must not have cracked yet.

"The effects of my... medicine are not really pleasant." the boy with the old soul replied, a grim smile that showed the true mental age of the child. "My name is Joshua; you can call me Josh is you want."

"... My name is Sherrinford. Do you know what is going on?" Sherrinford asked, slowly approaching him as one would a hurt puppy. Soon the boys were sitting across from each other on the twin size bed in the basement, both staring the other down and taking each other in.

"... We are at this moment stuck with a cult, one which is rather wealthy, though small. They are not above criminal deeds, even though most of them are made up of nobility. At this point in time, escape is not possible." Josh explained, watching the boy's aura carefully. With the heroin clouding his senses, he couldn't read a aura as well as he did before. He was basically down to telling if anyone was near or looking for things specifically.

"... At this point in time?" The teen asked, curious.

With a sly grin appearing on his face a few moments later, much to the intrigue and interest of the young thirteen year old before him, Josh chuckled.

He had just found exactly what he needed.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you mean you see NOTHING?!" Was yelled at the bruised and battered young child, who whimpered softly as his fellow prisoner held him close, glaring with great heat at the Brother Jones, who had a group of five around him.

"J-j-just thaaat." the heavily drugged child had said. As he had been captive in his luxurious prison cell for about a month and a half, the dose for his 'medicine' had steadily risen. He looked rather sickly, not aided by the fist sized bruises he got from receiving the Brother's wrath.

"His visions are growing fewer and fewer each day. And if one does come it's total nonsense. Maybe we should cut down on the dr- er medication, sir?" one of their 'guardians' suggested hesitantly, not wanting to incur the higher member's wrath.

"And have to face the withdraw symptoms? Who knows if he'll be of any use during such a time? Especially with elections so close." Was argued by Brother Jones, his face red.

"But what if he stops seeing anything period? We can't risk it. If necessary, we can wait for next elections, try different medication if needed. But the fact remains that if we do nothing, it's possible he will stop seeing anything." Was the reply from the children's 'Doctor', the one who gave Joshua his medicine and made sure he was alive every morning.

"But how are we to- what are you doing, you little brat." Was said, getting the other group member's attention.

During the argument, the thirteen year old had gotten up and had crossed the room, kneeling before a small bin. Standing up from the position with a blanket now in his hands, Sherrinford scowled at the adults.

"My friend is cold, so I'm getting him a blanket as he can not get it himself... Sirs." was the reply Sherrinford had given them, said with as much nobility as he could muster. Which was quite a bit, considering his young age.

"Oh, leave him alone, he won't do any harm. Besides, he calms the other one down a bit, can't have him knocked out." the other 'guardian' said, stopping any fists from even coming to box the kid.

"In fact, why don't we move this whole conversation to a better area. I'm sure our brethren would like to know more details."

"Good idea."

Soon, the group left the two youths to themselves, the older one covering the both of them with the blanket till it covered their entire bodies.

"... D-did...you get it-t?" was asked in a hesitant, stuttering whisper.

Despite the covers practically blocking the merger light, Josh saw Sherrinford's aura seemingly bursting with excitement and hope. A rather good sign.

"See for yourself." Was said in such a proud, grand way that if Josh didn't know better, he would think he was talking to a regular snobby rich kid.

After those words were said, a white-ish blue light appeared, making the heroin drugged boy have to close his eyes to stop the pain in his head.

"Sorry, forgot about that..." Was said with genuine apologizes.

"Y-You knooooow what... to doooo... now, r-right? Reme..mber the addddddddd-ress?"

"Don't worry, I didn't forget. You just sleep it off for a bit; soon you won't be hurt anymore."

"M'kay" John managed, the last thing he heard a series of beeps as he feel into the arms of Morpheus.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

In the end, it was thanks to Brother Jones's disloyal wife and her child's governess that they found themselves free.

The woman had two phones on her person, one which she used for her life as a 'good wife and mother' and the other for her rather secretive and sensual pursuits.

Unfortunately one morning she had been waylaid by her governess about a problem with her child, which caused her in her fright to drop her things. Those items had then been picked up by a passing maid who had placed the items near the door, ready for the Mistress when she did need to leave. The same maid had however mistaken the phone to be the husband's, as she knew someone as fashion conscious as her lady would never go around toting such a plain accessory. Thinking that her lord's wife was simply going to return it, the maid had placed it in her Lord's coat, the pocket opposite to where his real phone really was.

Brother Jones had had no clue it was even there, as he had not put anything in that pocket and was in a hurry to his meeting with the cult. Where he had found that he had just enough time for a quick check in from the seer, hoping for good fortune and anger when he found nothing. As the man didn't favor his left, he had not noticed in his rage nibble hands swiftly snatch a phone he would not miss. And with Sherrinford's excuse about the blanket, it would not be looked into to deeply.

Once they were truly alone, Sherrinford had made a call to his family, explaining everything.

They were free within the night.

When Joshua had woke up, it was to find his friend born from shared imprisonment cleaned up and in much better clothing, as the cult had wanted to punish him with wearing only that.

"You are not one of the blessed, so you shall receive nothing from our God." had been what they had told him. Good thing food and water didn't count.

But now, in the hospital's lighting, the old soul residing in the child was able to truly take in his friend.

What he found was both striking and weirdly familiar.

The thirteen year old before him was a rather beautiful child, with straight red locks that carried a bit a wave to them. Coupled with silver-green eyes and pale skin, add his noble features, and give a few more years, the teen will probably be a heartbreaker when he matures.

"Thank you." Sherrinford said, a soft, warm smile crossing his face.

"It wouldn't have been possible without you and your family." John pointed out, refusing to take much credit. It was due to his visions that they got a plan out of there, however it was though the efforts of a determined family and hardened officers that they were now truly free.

His friend merely looked amused by his words, before sighing at him, "Your Family will be here tomorrow morning, as they will be there when you give your statement... My family is already here..." The teen added hesitantly, before looking away for a bit.

"I didn't tell anyone about your gift."

"I know... So, what's your address? Cause I'll need it if I want to write to you." Josh said, smiling slightly when he saw his best friend un-tense at his words. Really, why would he worry that Josh wouldn't want to keep in contact.

"Oh, so you don't already know it?"

"Despite what those men thought, I don't see everything; just what could change or help me."

"Which is still quite a bit."

"Indeed."

Soon, the two bantered and conversed, more freely and happily then they have in their captivity. If any of the nurses had happened to look in, they would see a thirteen and a newly turned eleven year old sitting side by side on the hospital, both pale and battered from their ordeal. The older one would laugh at a sudden joke while his ash brown haired friend grinned, honey brown eyes old but still containing a warm spark to them. And despite the IVs and bandages, he still returned the hug the red head gave him when he had to leave, accepting the paper with his name and address.

Of course, everyone missed the widening of those brown eyes when they finally read his friend's name.

Sherrinford Hunter Holmes.

...

He had not seen that coming.


End file.
